Thanks to Louis Galvez @louiscesar for making this photo available on Unsplash 🎁

It’s after 3:30am on Christmas morning, and I write this as I lay awake reflecting on holidays past and time shared with family. This Christmas has felt very different then the past few years…

Christmas was always my favorite holiday as a child and as a teen. It was the time of year we got to see extended family, participate in church choir and dance performances, a time to go to Christmas events and parties- a season full of joy, warmth, and “Christmas magic”. It’s been an exciting season of love ever since Freddie and I started dating, then later engaged on NYE, and in our early years married.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve found awe and wonder in the story of Jesus birth. I’ve found inspiration, encouragement, and hope, in Mary’s story. After making my faith my own, and even through deconstructing and rebuilding along my faith journey, Mary’s story and Elizabeth’s story have resonated deeply with me. These stories of Christmas always added to that “Christmas Magic” for me- whether read alone in my room or during a candlelight service or midnight mass…. I’ve felt the impact each year of seasons reflective significance.

In my adult years, the magic has seemed to wax and wane- more often disintegrating from magic dust to attic dust. Once I started facing the uncertain darkness that is infertility and some of my health issues… the holiday season became heavy laden with pain and sorrow for me. I laid certain ideas and thoughts to rest while I steeped in my pain. That is not to say that this has not affected us both, my husband and I, to varying degrees each year since…. However, I can only speak to my own experience.

Each year living with infertility has been a test of faith, perseverance, and love. It has been a test of my mental and emotional health, and a test to my marriage. Each holiday bringing to remembrance and highlights that which I lack- bringing feelings of shame, insignificance, and even sometimes feelings that infertility itself is a sign that I am unworthy of love, of joy, of Christmas miracles or New Years blessings.

In years past, it has been a struggle to identify once again with Mary & Elizabeth. I’ve had to forcefully choose to see their stories as encouragement that God sees me- a simple & insignificant woman. It has felt like a searing hot poker to the heart to sit among a sea of families or near those mothers holding infants during holiday events and Christmas Eve services. It was as if a giant chasm opened up between me and my previously most favorite holiday season of the year.

Now… If you’ve read my Mother’s Day post from earlier this year, you know that this is the first year I attended a church service on Mother’s Day in quite sometime. And, if you know me personally, you probably heard that I took a job this fall working with children again full time for the first time in about 5 years. I took the position in part to see if I could do it, to see if I could mentally and emotionally handle working with children again, or if it was time to put that down for good. I know that I have a unique skill set and that I am excellent with children, but a part of me was terrified to try when this part of my life had become so painful. Luckily, I’ve found that I’m doing so much better in my role than I ever could have imagined… and I’ve discovered that old wounds and previous triggers are no longer as impactful or painful as they once were… a tremendously encouraging sign of my healing progress.

This holiday season has proven to be more of the same… and I am so proud of myself for making it this far in my journey both with infertility and with my journey in faith.

Don’t get me wrong- I still get caught up in my feelings when I see families dressed up for the holiday or walking around the Christmas lights in the park while taking selfies as a family. I mostly am filled with a yearning and longing for it to be my time to become a parent and to experience pregnancy. This is an improvement. I am still human, and I still have my own dreams and hopes and prayers for the future. The last half of this year however, has been much easier than the majority of this journey. The pain is still deep, but not as prohibitive. Dreams are building, it’s a feeling accompanied by hope- a yearning and a longing- rather than a stabbing or crushing devouring pain.

I haven’t had to walk away from activities or turn down invitations- as I have in previous years. I’m finding space for myself to breathe and allow myself and my reality to just be. I’m finding that where I once had no resistance to the darkness that engulfed me, there are ladders building from strands of hope.

The journey of infertility is not an easy path. Within Christ following circles we have a tendency to over spiritualize this difficult reality and to hyper fixate on the desired outcome rather than the journey itself. This prevents us from being able to see the stories of those within the Bible who experienced barrenness and infertility as anything but their miraculous endings. We forget to look at where the story started. We forget to consider the very real human emotions and thoughts that must have accompanied such experiences within less forgiving societies.

This prevents us from being able to sit in the discomfort and the very real unknown outcomes that those around us experiencing infertility are facing- so very often completely isolated or while feeling very alone. We become so fixated on the desired miracle that we forget to stop and see- really see- the human being in front of us…. As God saw Elizabeth. As God saw Mary.

Regardless of if we are marked for a miracle, God still sees us and has marked us for light. God does not only see us for our barrenness- God sees us for our whole selves through both positive perseverance and woeful struggle. No situation or feeling is too big for God to handle; No sadness or bitterness too deep; No anger or pain too potent. God even surpasses Zechariah’s unbelief. God shows Joseph grace and understanding.

This holiday season has felt as if that “Christmas Magic” is returning. I find myself daring to hope and dream again. I’m reminded that nothing I feel or face is bigger than the God I believe in. This journey is not linear, but I would be remiss not to acknowledge where I am standing in this journey today. I don’t know where this journey is leading… but I have some hope. And I feel ok.

To paraphrase something I wrote a while back: What I want most this Christmas cannot be given or bought, nor offered or gifted; so I ask for you to pray.